You're All I Think About_Second Chance Romance

by Scarlett Avery

"Good one," Ilis smirks back. "None of my multiple, multiple, multiple female lovers have ever had cause to complain. Not one," he says smugly.

  "Multiple? Repeated three times?" Barrett purses his lips. “That’s rich. There's nothing quite like a lover who kisses and tells. Very classy." The words are calculated and carry the crack of a bullwhip.

  "I'm just responding to your erroneous suggestion that I might be gay. I'm not. I just want to make that clear."

  “Thanks for sharing.” Barrett raises an arrogant eyebrow. “Despite your exaggerated claims, I’m willing to bet my fortune that not all Greeks fall into that category of great lovers.” Yikes.

  “And you'd lose," Ilis says before sliding his gaze towards me. "Big time," he adds.

  I know I shouldn't, but my gaze shifts towards Barrett. A flash of heated jealousy breaks through his icy stare before he blinks, and then it’s gone, replaced by indifference.

  "You don't want to challenge me, mate.” Wry humor enters Barrett’s tone. “You’ll lose far more than just money."

  Silence falls on the garden for a beat until Kostas jumps to his feet.

  "On that delightful note, I'm ready for more champagne. Anyone else?"

  Everyone lifts their glasses and cheers in approval.

  I don’t.

  Needless to say, Barrett isn't participating.

  Ilis is sulking next to me, licking his wounds.

  You don’t want to provoke Barrett Ascott in a war of words.

  He’ll always win.

  CHAPTER 26

  Barrett

  After the most aggravating conversation of the century, we eat dessert in silence. Ilis killed the mood with his attempt to ridicule me. Since I made it blatantly clear that I kneel to no one, everyone else was dreading another vitriolic showdown between us. They were worried for no good reason. Other than thank you and good night, I have no intention to say anything more to this fool.

  The rest of the evening would’ve ended up being a dreadful bore had it not been for the fact that our host invited a bunch of his friends to enjoy the evening entertainment. As the new guests arrive, the decibel of the DJ’s music increases. Needing space, I seek refuge further in the garden exploring Ilis’ jungle-like backyard foliage. I thought of leaving, but I decided to give it another hour. I was hoping to mend fences with Charlotte, but it looks like it won’t happen. Not tonight anyways. The small crowd forming has made it easy for us to avoid each other. In many ways, it's a blessing because I'm still too worked up from not being able to slap some sense into Ilis. I’m sure I’d end up saying the wrong things.

  I leave my hideaway in search of another drink. Thankfully, our host’s friends aren’t as obsessed with their diets as he is. The additional four couples and two single women who joined us arrived with their arms weighed down by hard liquor. Bless them.

  As I stroll towards the bar, I spot Charlotte. She’s laughing carefree with a few of the wives.

  At least someone is having fun.

  After ordering a whiskey neat, I turn around just in time to catch a yellow veil whooshing into Ilis’ house. I search around to see if our host notices, but he seems completely consumed by Melina and Natassa—the two single women. Thank God for small favors. I drop my glass on a passing waiter's tray and discreetly follow Charlotte.

  I lose sight of her when I enter the house.

  I guess I wasn't quick enough.

  I debate on waiting for her at the foot of the stairs, but I don't want to draw any attention to myself.

  Something tells me she’s in the loo, the question is which one of the eleven?

  With a determined step, I start my hunt. I move quickly from one bathroom to the next. Ten minutes later there’s still no sign of Charlotte. I run up the stairs two-by-two to the top floor hoping I’ll find her. I don't have much luck with the first bathroom, but I strike gold with the second one.

  The door is locked.

  "Charlotte," I say in a low voice, rapping at the door.

  "I'm not in here," she shouts.

  "Don't be like that."

  "I said, I'm. Not. In. Here."

  "Fuck, Charlotte." I don't even try to hide my frustration.

  "What do you want, Barrett?"

  "Can we talk, just for a few minutes?"

  "Do we have anything to say to each other?"

  I drop my head against the door. "It's been a long day and you've been avoiding me. Why don't we just get it out in the open?" I can hear the exasperation in my voice.

  She doesn't respond immediately, but eventually things go my way. “Fine,” she says.

  I hear her heels against the marble floor and then the door flies open.

  "Thank you," I say, walking inside and closing the door behind me.

  "All right, talk. I'm listening," she says, leaning against the marble sink with her arms crossed over her chest.

  “First off, you look sensational. The dress suits you to a T.”

  “Thank you,” she says, looking away.

  “The bracelet and that sexy as hell scarf around your wrists are brilliant at concealing things.”

  “I thought so.”

  She pulls her lips up. Not quite a smile, but it’s not a frown either.

  “Will you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?"

  She narrows her eyes. "For what?"

  "Let it be known that you did a smashing job with this little number. God knows when you had time to go shopping, but you truly nailed it. With all my careful planning, I completely forgot to buy you a suitable cocktail dress for a garden party." I pause. "There goes my career as a fashion consultant up in flames before it even begins."

  Her eyes widen in realization before she explodes in laughter.

  It doesn't take much convincing for me to join her.

  And just like that the tension between us dissolves. Finally.

  "I'm supposed to be upset at you, Barrett," she says when she finds her composure.

  "Didn't I take good care of you last night?" I ask before stepping forward. "Is that why you're so upset at me?"

  I know I'm not playing fair. I really know the answer to that question. Still, I'm going to use every single card in my deck.

  She lifts a hand to stop me. "Please don't come any closer," she pleads.

  “Why?” I take another step forward. She half-heartedly shakes her head. Her hand is still lifted. I hold my ground. I'm not backing down. “You’re afraid your body will react to mine? Is that it?"

  "Barrett," she whispers.

  "I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that you didn't wake up this morning hoping you could ride my cock."

  She drops her hand. "That has nothing to do with it, and you know it."

  "Is that your way of saying yes?" I take another step.

  She doesn't lift her hand back up. Instead, she flashes me a suspicious side-glance.

  When she remains silent, I decide on a different approach. Maybe there is an attraction with Ilis. "Oh, come on, Charlotte. Are you really going to allow yourself to be wooed by a wannabe-jock who can't shut up about his fucking state-of-the-art home gym?" I practically growl that question as a tumultuous wave of possessiveness boils inside me.

  She holds my gaze, but she still doesn't say a thing.

  "Just say the word if you really want him. I'll gallantly back down."

  She answers with a small smile before speaking. “I don’t think Ilis is trying to woo me.”

  My nostrils flaring, I take a deep breath, fighting to get myself under control. "You’re a very sharp woman. Surely you can see what’s going on here."

  "I do. I see it clearly. I just don't think he has anything meaningful going on in his life. He sees me as a little toy to add to his collection. This mansion is one of them," she says, opening her arms dramatically. "Thanks, but no thanks," she says. Thank God. "Furthermore, the way Ilis goes on about working out twice a day, every day—even on religious holidays, of course—to keep a buff physique at thirty-nine, ma
kes me wonder.”

  “About what?”

  “Obviously, the man is over compensating for a potentially tiny willy. Sadly for him, I have zero interest in finding out."

  I laugh.

  "So, you’re not falling for his pathetic act?” I ask.

  Her hazel gaze locks on mine. "And that bothers you, Barrett Ascott?"

  "What if it does?"

  "We aren’t together anymore," she reminds me.

  "I’m fully aware of that, Charlotte, but last night, you agreed to play with me. Follow my rules. To be mine.”

  “That was last night. One night.” She pauses. “Before Tyler called.”

  There we have it.

  “I’m close to putting this nightmare behind me,” I defend.

  “You’ve been saying that for three years, Barrett. Even before your father passed away two years ago, Archer and Cormac were assholes towards you. Ditto for their bitch of a mother Alvina and Cormac’s evil daughter Octavia. They’re all poison. I'm very sorry you’re related to them, but I don’t want to get infected.”

  “Charlotte, let’s not talk about this now.”

  Just the mention of those names has my blood boiling.

  She lets out a ragged breath. “You always say that, Barrett," she snaps. "When?" she asks. Her arms go flying up in the air before landing against her thighs in a loud thump.

  “Charlotte—”

  Her eyes flare up with something that’s too familiar—pain. It lasts only for an instant. It’s quickly replaced with calculated indifference. “You know what? Don't answer that. It's okay. I don't need to know. I can’t do this again, Barrett. I just can’t.”

  My mouth thins into a firm, chiseled line.

  Bloody hell. I fucking hate those people.

  I breathe through my nostrils uncertain how to turn this shitty situation around.

  I study her.

  Her long lashes flutter expectantly. She may protest and claim she doesn't want answers, but she does. She's been patiently waiting for an explanation for years now.

  How do I explain the evil I’m trying to protect her from?

  My beautiful butterfly. How much do I tell you?

  Like always, when I'm faced with this decision, my heart constricts.

  I comb my fingers through my hair before locking eyes with her again. "I've been very circumspect about the malevolent Ascotts because they have dirt on Mum.”

  “What?" Her eyes widen in shock. "On Korina?”

  “Yes. There've been threats. Several. It started a little over six months ago—”

  “Archer and Cormac?”

  “A middleman or a front man. However you want to call the asshole.” I don’t want to freak her out by revealing too much. “It’s text book Archer and Cormac.”

  “Wow. They’re at it again.” Charlotte shakes her head in disbelief.

  “Yeah. I don’t think they’ll rest until they die or deplete me of all the money I possess.”

  "That's why you retreated in your shell six months ago?" she asks.

  It's a bad habit. I know. I just can't break it. It’s how I deal with calamities. It’s also how my father dealt with shit.

  I give her a tight nod. "They simply won't accept my father’s will. Their only recourse is to keep dragging my name and my family through the mud. It's bloody costly, aggravating and an utter waste of my precious time."

  "I can understand," she sympathizes. "Still, you should’ve said something."

  Mum’s exact words.

  “Tyler and I are trying to find a way—legal, of course—to put a noose around their necks to prevent them from going public with whatever it is they have."

  "So, you don't know exactly what they have on your mum?" she asks.

  "I know parts of the story. I don't have the full picture. That's what we’re so desperately trying to figure out. Tyler and I have been relentless, but we keep hitting brick walls. Clearly Archer and Cormac are waiting for the right moment to do the most damage since they’ve been sitting on whatever it is they have for this long. All this is driving me absolutely mad."

  "Why didn’t you call on me? I hold several PhD degrees in the art of digging dirt on people," she smiles softly.

  Because they have a pile of shit on you too. "You’re too close. I’m using one of the publicists Tyler's firm has on standby."

  “Of course. That makes sense," she says. I'm relieved to hear there's not a trace of ill feeling in her voice. "So, I gather Tyler called with not such great news earlier this morning?"

  "You could say that.”

  She pushes herself off of the counter and takes a long step towards me. She reaches her hand to my cheek, but I catch it before she touches me. I bring it to my lips and kiss it tenderly. She lets me.

  “I’m sorry you still have to deal with this horrendous situation and those despicable people," she says.

  "So am I," I tell her. "Especially because it keeps fucking things up between us."

  There's a long pause before she speaks again. "Thank you," she says. I frown. "I may not understand everything that’s going on, but I’m grateful for the little you were willing to reveal.”

  "I'd like to say more—”

  "It’s okay.” She silences me by dropping two fingers against my lips. "You just do what you do best. Go after the bad guys and punish the hell out of them," she says with conviction.

  “Between Bibi, Jason, the Ascotts, and Ilis, this day is wearing me down," I confess.

  "I can understand about the attention-seeking escort, the petulant pop star and the vindictive family members, but the Greek publicist?” She pauses. “Tate Barrett Matej Ascott.” She’s one of the few people who know my Croatian name. “Really?" she says with a teasing smile flitting on her lips.

  "He got to me," I admit.

  "I bet we could punch a hole in his theory," she smiles wide.

  I arch my eyebrow. "Which one?"

  "Clearly, I can't attest to all British men being formidable lovers—”

  "Thank God for that."

  She laughs. "But the outrageously handsome man standing in front of me has some serious skills. In my opinion, they’re highly certifiable." That smile just took over her beautiful face.

  "Is that so?"

  "Yes, sir."

  I stifle a groan as an intense rush of blood engorges my cock.

  "Are you saying that you want to prove the verifiable research from the reputable science body known as Glamour Greece, wrong?” Sarcasm laces each word.

  "I'm in if you're in." Her flippant tone betrays her lust-veiled gaze.

  “What are you saying, kitten?"

  "You know what I’m saying. For science’s sake, of course." She bites down against her freshly painted lips and I just want to lick that lipstick right off of them.

  "Are you giving me one more night?”

  “If you want,” she tempts.

  I lean forward, my lips lightly grazing under her ear. To my delight, she shudders. “Kitten, that's like asking me if I want to breathe.” I pull away from her and ask. “So, you want to be mine tonight?”

  Charlotte closes her eyes and lets out a low moan as my fingers travel down her back. “I think I’ve made that clear.”

  “It doesn't hurt to double check,” I whisper, my lips ghosting along her slender neck.

  "No, it doesn't."

  “I’m grateful you’d be willing to give up your body so freely in the name of science,” I tease. "I'm sure King Albert will honor you with the title of Dame for your sacrifice."

  "Long live the King," she jokes.

  "Indeed. I admire your dedication."

  “Anything to save the honor of my country’s fellow men.”

  “Anything?”

  “Anything.”

  “Even here?” I clamp both hands against her ass and press her body to mine, pressing my erection against her stomach.

  “Oh, God,” she hisses as her head tilts to the side. Greedily, I nibble at the column of
her neck.

  “I can mark you here in the Château de Versailles bathroom?" I joke in reference to the palace-like décor.

  She explodes in laughter. "Ilis actually names his bathrooms?"

  “I haven't got a clue and frankly, I don't give a damn. It was just a wild guess. I wouldn't put it past him to be that ridiculous."

  "Neither would I," she laughs.

  "You haven't answered my question yet, kitten." I veer the conversation away from our annoying host.

  “Yes.”

  "Are you sure?”

  She nods vehemently. “Unequivocally.”

  I trail my lips across her collarbone kissing along her exposed skin. "I like that answer." My hands lift her dress up until the fabric is bunching at the waist.

  Slap.

  "Ouch," she complains rubbing her ass. "What was that for?"

  "Because I can and because I wanted to remind you who you belong to."

  "In that case, by all means."

  "You're too eager, kitten," I scoff. I run my right hand between her legs and press my fingers against the damp lace of her panties, “What color are they?" I ask.

  "I don't have to tell you.”

  God, I love how she plays along.

  I move my fingers in painfully slow circles against her clit. “Then you don't want to come.”

  "Not fair," she complains. She even adds a sad little pout for show.

  "My rules are very simple, kitten. You give me what I want. I give you what you need."

  For a few seconds you can only hear her breathing. It's hedonistic as hell.

  "They're yellow," she finally says.

  Goddammit.

  "Correction. Past tense."

  "Huh?"

  Without giving her a chance to think, I yank hard and rip her thong right off of her body. That was easy. I let the torn underwear drop to the floor.

  "They were yellow," I growl.

  “Ha!" she gasps. "You're a bloody animal."

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Remind me of that when you’re coming all over my cock."

  "And you expect me to walk back out into that garden party commando? That's just indecent."

  “Who said anything about us going back down there when I'm done with you?"

  We both laugh.

  I pull away from her. “Give me one second.”